CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 4
The guests froze like mannequins under the chandelier.
Eleanor did not.
She raised her champagne glass as if Mark had just made a toast.
“A wife learns faster when she stops pretending,” she said.
My stomach turned cold.
Not because I was surprised.
Because she had finally said in public what she had whispered in private for years.
I looked at Mark.
“Say that again.”
His eyes narrowed.
He leaned closer, still arrogant, still convinced everyone in the room belonged to him.
“Your father can’t protect you in my house.”
The words landed perfectly.
Clear.
Loud.
Recorded.
Behind him, the front door opened.
No one spoke.
Cold night air slipped into the living room. The golden party lights flickered across stunned faces as Mark slowly turned.
My father stepped inside.
He wore a dark formal suit, his gray hair neatly combed, his expression calm enough to terrify anyone who knew him.
Two detectives entered behind him.
One carried a sealed evidence folder.
Mark’s smile disappeared.
Eleanor’s champagne glass lowered an inch.
Thomas looked at Mark, then at me.
May you like
“Actually,” my father said, calm and cold, “I brought people who can.”
For the first time in years, Mark had no clever answer.
